“Nothing but a good chance to promise him I wouldn’t forsake him. He’s one of my customers.” “Then it’s for him not to forsake _you_.” “Well, he won’t. It’s all right. But I must just keep on as long as he may want me.” “Want you to sit with him in the Park?” “He may want me for that—but I shan’t. I rather liked it, but once, under the circumstances, is enough. I can do better for him in another manner.” “And what manner, pray?” “Well, elsewhere.” “Elsewhere?—I _say_!” This was an ejaculation used also by Captain Everard, but oh with what a different sound! “You needn’t ‘say’—there’s nothing to be said. And yet you ought perhaps to know.” “Certainly I ought. But _what_—up to now?” “Why exactly what I told him. That I’d do anything for him.” “What do you mean by ‘anything’?” “Everything.” Mr. Mudge’s immediate comment on this statement was to draw from his pocket a crumpled paper containing the remains of half a pound of “sundries.” These sundries had figured conspicuously in his prospective sketch of their tour, but it was only at the end of three days that they had defined themselves unmistakeably as chocolate-creams. “Have another?—_that_ one,” he said. She had another, but not the one he indicated, and then he continued: “What took place afterwards?” “Afterwards?” “What did you do when you had told him you’d do everything?” “I simply came away.” “Out of the Park?” “Yes, leaving him there. I didn’t let him follow me.” “Then what did you let him do?” “I didn’t let him do anything.” Mr. Mudge considered an instant. “Then what did you go there for?” His tone was even slightly critical. “I didn’t quite know at the time. It was simply to be with him, I suppose—just once. He’s in danger, and I wanted him to know I know it. It makes meeting him—at Cocker’s, since it’s that I want to stay on for—more interesting.” “It makes it mighty interesting for _me_!” Mr. Mudge freely declared. “Yet he didn’t follow you?” he asked. “_I_ would!” “Yes, of course. That was the way you began, you know. You’re awfully inferior to him.” “Well, my dear, you’re not inferior to anybody. You’ve got a cheek! What’s he in danger of?” “Of being found out. He’s in love with a lady—and it isn’t right—and _I’ve_ found him out.” “That’ll be a look-out for _me_!” Mr. Mudge joked. “You mean she has a husband?” “Never mind what she has! They’re in awful danger, but his is the worst, because he’s in danger from her too.” “Like me from you—the woman _I_ love? If he’s in the same funk as me—” “He’s in a worse one. He’s not only afraid of the lady—he’s afraid of other things.” Mr. Mudge selected another chocolate-cream. “Well, I’m only afraid of one! But how in the world can you help this party?” “I don’t know—perhaps not at all. But so long as there’s a chance—” “You won’t come away?” “No, you’ve got to wait for me.” Mr. Mudge enjoyed what was in his mouth. “And what will he give you?” “Give me?” “If you do help him.”